


Dawn, Armed With Burning Patience

by forestgreen



Series: Light Burns [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Midnighter and Apollo (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Cock Warming, M/M, Objectification, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Sexual Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/pseuds/forestgreen
Summary: If slaves were allowed to wish for things, Robin would wish to stay like this forever.
Relationships: Apollo/Jason Todd, past Joker/Jason Todd
Series: Light Burns [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123847
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80
Collections: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	Dawn, Armed With Burning Patience

**Author's Note:**

> _About the tags:_ The non-con tag is mostly due to memories of past non-con, but also because Jason is still a slave and can't give consent. Jason used to be Joker's slave and that is its own warning. The story mostly glosses over the worst of it. 
> 
> _Additional notes_ : This story is set roughly two weeks after [A Light That Burns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649070) ends. It probably won't make much sense if you haven't read that, but if you want to jump in anyway, this is what you need to know:
> 
> Jason used to be Joker's slave. He killed Joker (aka Master Napier) and was bought by Apollo, a powerful mage with a hobby of collecting "feral" slaves. Ferals are slaves who killed their former master. Usually, they are considered rabid and put down, but Apollo is powerful enough that when he says he wants them, the Council sighs deeply and lets him get away with it. 
> 
> In this universe, slavery is enforced through magic, and most slaves are unable to disobey, let alone kill their masters. The few who are desperate enough to actually manage it, die from the backslash of the binding spell breaking. Thus, ferals are extremely rare. Apollo rescued his first feral to study how the spell broke and then it just… became a thing. Jason is his third feral, after Midnighter and Slade. 
> 
> What else do you need to know? The spell breaking did a number on Jason and that's why he's so confused about how he came to be in Apollo's possession. He was bound to Apollo immediately after purchase and is just now starting to come out from the magical effects of that. He's a very confused gem. Ah, yes, there's a classification system for slaves, depending on their purpose and the nature of the magical binding used to enslave them. Gems are very expensive sex slaves/companions who are considered a status symbol. We also have shields (bodyguards/warriors), rags (household slaves) and plows (slaves working the fields and mines), but that isn't too important for this installment of the story. 
> 
> So, that's it. Enjoy reading!

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Nothing hurts. His body doesn't feel like his own. Maybe he's dreaming. Robin tries to wake up, but can't. Does he really want to? Nothing hurts in the dream. Nothing hurts, and it's wrong, wrong, wrong. He needs to wake up before Master comes and punishes him. 

He shifts on his knees, trying to scrape them against the floor. Just a little pain to remember that he's alive. Is he? But there's no cold, hard stone under his knees, just the softest of rugs. It caresses Robin's knees like… He's never felt anything that soft before. He shifts again. It feels good. _Nice._ Robin doesn't deserve nice things.

He needs pain. Pain means he's alive. Not that Robin wants to be alive. He tried to kill himself once, and Master's punishment had been worse than dying. He'd been so angry. Robin doesn't want to anger Master like that ever again. Death is a mercy Robin has yet to earn. One day, if he truly pleases Master, Master will kill Robin. He promised.

Robin needs to wake up now. He should dig his nails into his skin and tear it until it bleeds. Maybe bite himself and rip a piece of flesh. Master likes it when Robin hurts himself. If Robin hurts himself enough, Master might show him mercy. But Robin is a weak, pathetic gem. He never hurts himself enough to satisfy Master, and Master has to waste his precious time doing what Robin can't. 

The muzzle on his mouth stops him from biting. Did Master put it on him to make Robin fail? No. The muzzle doesn't hurt. If it was Master's, it would hurt somehow. Master is good at making Robin hurt. 

His hands are tied behind his back, stopping him from scratching, but it doesn't hurt either. How is that possible? Being tied up always hurts. He tries to at least to pinch himself. Something. Anything. But the soft leather mittens covering his fingers don't let him. Robin can't reach skin. He can't bite. He can't scratch. He's failing. He's failing.

Wake up! Wake up!

"Jason, sweetheart, are you in pain?"

Robin wants to cry. Oh, he's already crying. The hitching noises filling the room are coming from him. Why is he crying if nothing hurts? He's not in pain. He's not. He cries harder, unable to help it.

"Hush, sweetheart, it's all right." It's the kind master from the dream. Tall and blond and handsome. His eyes are gentle and forgiving. He doesn't look anything like Master Napier, because he's not. It's just a dream and Robin needs to wake up.

Wake up!

"Hush, calm down." It's as if he's talking to someone else, someone who isn't Robin. Maybe there was a mistake and the kind master bought another slave but then someone gave him Robin instead?

He'll find out sooner or later and send Robin back. Or Master will come to collect Robin. Unless Master is dead. Did Robin really kill him? That can't be right. He tries to remember but his memories are a blur, and whenever he tries to pierce what is dream and what is real nothing makes sense. 

There had been pain. But there's always pain. That part had to be real. And there had been a new toy. Master bought Robin a present, because Master likes to buy Robin toys, even though Robin is an ungrateful gem that flinches and cries and begs when Master buys him things. Robin tried to be good. He thinks? He remembers trying. He tried so hard to like his present. But he couldn't. He _couldn't_. He remembers that much. 

Master's neck had been right there, pale and greenish, and Robin stopped trying to be good. Being good hurt as much as being bad did. But if he was bad, Master would bring out the whip or the cane. He might call his friends, which was always so much worse, but even that would be better than the new toy. Anything would be better than the new toy.

Robin bit him.

Master's blood tasted coppery and salty, just like Robin's blood did. Shouldn't a master's blood taste different than a slave's? Robin bit harder. The taste of blood so familiar, like the new pain wasn't.

Master didn't scream. He gurgled and tried to laugh, but it was weak and wet. And then he stopped laughing and moving and there was blood everywhere. Master didn't scream. But Harley… Harley _did_. Jason had never heard her scream like that before. She clutched at her chest and shrieked, and she _cried_. Harley never cried; she laughed like Master did. Only Robin cried, because he was a pathetic excuse for a gem who couldn't even take joy from Master paying attention to him.

Something ripped inside of him. An emptiness. A hollowness. It hurt. It wasn't a bad pain, though. Nothing like the new toy or even any of Master's old favorites. It was just pain. Robin knew pain. It was a friend. Sometimes.

Robin let go of Master then. He thinks? Was that when the dream started? Did Master call his friends to punish Robin for biting him? That seems more likely than Master dying. Master couldn't be dead. Maybe Robin is there now, tied to the rack, while Master's friends hurt him. Lord Crane loves to use his magic to make Robin dream, and Robin can't ever tell what's real and what's a dream then either. What if it's Lord Crane's turn? But that doesn't make sense. Lord Crane's magic is horrible. The only thing Robin wants when he's under its influence is for it to end. Except that he never knows it's a dream while it's happening. It's so _real_. 

Why would Lord Crane let Robin dream of soft rugs under his knees?

"Just nod your head if you are in pain. Can you do that for me, Jason?"

Jason. Jason is good. Jason isn't Robin. The kind master will find out that Robin lied and will get rid of him.

"Jason, I asked you a question." He's so gentle, even when he's chastising Robin.

Robin shakes his head and shivers, waiting for the pain. Robin can only be good if there's pain to teach him. He's so stupid. More stupid than a rag, really. He should be grateful that Master Napier lets him be a gem at all. And he is. He _is_ grateful.

The kind master's hand moves closer and Robin flinches. He'll know now that Robin isn't Jason, that Robin isn't good. Good slaves don't flinch away from their masters. He'll know now for sure. The hand ruffles Robin's hair. It doesn't yank or hurt, it's just a caress, but Robin still whimpers.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

He's so bad. The kind master will figure it out.

The touch remains light and gentle. Soothing. Robin's mom had touched him like that before. He thinks. He'd still been Jason then. Maybe if he can be Jason a little bit longer... Just a little bit. Until he wakes up. If he wakes up. What if he's dead?

It doesn't seem that bad. Being dead. Robin likes it.

The kind master continues to stroke Robin's hair. "I'm going to take off your muzzle. You're not to bite yourself, Jason." 

The muzzle is soft, too, made from the red fur of the chill'a. Too soft for someone like Robin. Too expensive. Sometimes at night, after the kind master has fallen asleep and the other gems are quiet too, Robin rubs the muzzle against the parts of his shoulder he can reach or against his arms. He does it slowly, afraid the kind master will wake up and tell him to stop. The chill'a's fur is softer than Robin's ugly, puckered and scarred skin. It catches sometimes against the ridges of scars across Robin's arms, but it doesn't hurt. Robin wishes he could rub it against his belly and legs or against his back. Maybe he won't feel it there. He doesn't feel much there, other than pain. He's good at feeling pain. 

Robin doesn't deserve nice things, or soft things. He doesn't deserve the kind master. Soon enough, he'll figure it out and stop being kind. Why would he be kind to Robin after Robin lied to him. Robin told him he was Jason, but he's not Jason. He hasn't been Jason in so long. Maybe he never was? Maybe Jason is someone he made up?

He should tell the kind master he's Robin. It's better if he tells the truth now, even if the kind master sells him. Robin doesn't want to be sold. Not yet. Maybe he'll tell the kind master tomorrow. Or the day after. Or maybe he'll wake up before then. No kind master, no soft furs. Just pain.

"Hush, it's all right, sweetheart. Don't fret so. There's no need to be afraid." The kind master eases the muzzle away. "You can let go of the ball now, but you're not to bite yourself."

Robin spits the ball into the kind master's open palm and licks his lips. They taste sweet like the ball. It's nothing like the gags Master prefers, the ones that make him laugh, because they burn like acid and have Robin begging Master to rip his lips and tongue out just to stop the burning. 

"Don't bite yourself, Jason." The kind master's voice is stern this time, less gentle.

Robin lets go of his lip. He didn't mean to disobey. He licks his lips again, chasing the sweet flavour. Maybe someone switched him and he's no longer in Robin's body and that's why nothing hurts and even his drool tastes like honey instead of blood.

He desperately wants to bite down and tear. Just to make sure that there's blood there. That this is his and not someone else's body. Robin knows the taste of his blood. Surely he'll be able to tell the difference?

"Jason, don't!"

Robin lets go of his lips. It was just a tiny bite. He didn't even notice he was doing it again. Robin doesn't want to anger the kind master. He's never had a master like him before. Not even his punishments hurt. Half the time, Robin isn't sure if they are punishments at all. But they have to be, right? The kind master had been so angry when Robin bit his tongue bloody that one time. He hadn't yelled or cackled like Master Napier would, but Robin had known he was angry. Robin is good at knowing when masters are angry with him. He's just bad at stopping it from happening. 

He thought he'd be whipped for sure then, but the kind master had just sighed and his light had healed Robin's tongue. The light burned a little, like the midday sun on a hot summer day. Robin liked it. Afterwards, the kind master brought the sweet ball for the first time and put it in Robin's mouth using the chill'a muzzle to keep it in place. Robin wasn't able to bite himself anymore. Not properly anyway. 

The kind master strokes his thumbs over Robin's lips. "Are you in pain?"

Robin shakes his head. He doesn't know why he's still crying. Nothing hurts. It feels wrong. Robin wants the kind master to hurt him. Just a bit. A tiny bit. To help Robin be good. He wants to be good for the kind master.

"Let's keep it that way then, Jason." He smiles at Robin. Not a cruel smile that foretells pain, but a gentle one. So different from Master Napier's. 

"Master," Robin dares to say. "Master, I lied." He has to say it now. Before he loses his nerve. Before the kind master wastes more time being nice to something ugly and bad like Robin. He deserves a better slave.

"What did you lie about, sweetheart?" He doesn't sound angry. Master would have been enraged if he ever found out that Robin lied to him. Even before, Master Bruce would have been angry, too. Maybe? Robin doesn't remember before very well.

"I'm not Jason. I'm... I'm Robin. I'm bad. I'm a bad slave. I disobey. I'm... I'm Robin." There, he said it. He told the kind master. Now he can sell Robin and get himself a better slave. One who is beautiful and obedient and deserves kindness.

"Oh, sweetheart, you aren't bad." The kind master wipes the tears falling from Robin's face. "Do you want to be Jason?"

Yes. Robin wants nothing more than to be Jason. "I'm not," he wails. "I'm not."

"But do you want to be? Do you want to be my beautiful, obedient gem, Jason?"

"Yes, yes." Robin doesn't want the dream to end. He wants to stay in the dream forever. Even if he's dead. He doesn't want to go back to being alive. Death is so much better. "But I'm not. I can't. I'm sorry."

"Hush, sweetheart." The kind master touches Robin's chest and the brand there warms and shines bright. "You _are_ mine, and if I say you're Jason then you're Jason, and if I say you're good then you're good. Because you're mine and you exist to please me. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"But I'm bad," Robin insists. Why won't he see it? Robin has to make him see it. No one so good deserves someone so bad.

"You're not." He places a finger on Robin's lips when he tries to protest. "Hush, how about we give that mouth of yours something better to do than contradict its master?"

Robin swallows and stays quiet. Surely he'll be punished now. Contradicting masters is never good, even if Robin was just trying to tell the kind master the truth. Robin is so bad, even when he's trying to be good, he's just bad. There's no helping it.

It hurts. Sort of. Not like wounds do, but deeper. Inside his chest. Maybe he didn't miss pain after all. It was nice not to hurt.

"Follow me," the kind master orders. 

Robin shuffles forward. It's awkward with his hands tied, but he's used to it. Master Napier likes to make Robin crawl and Robin is in much more pain then. This is easy. His knees leave the soft rug and he makes sure to scrape them against the hard little tiles on the floor. 

"Jason!" The kind master hisses.

Robin startles and trembles. "Sorry. I forgot. Because I'm bad." There, now he'll know for sure. Robin forgets all the time that he's not supposed to harm the kind master's property. But Robin isn't the kind master's slave, even if the kind master thinks so.

"Just don't do it." He sighs and crouches next to Robin. "Let me see." He pushes Robin back onto the floor and pulls Robin's knees up. They are a bit red and a gossamer thin layer of white skin has peeled off. It's not even bleeding. The kind master touches it anyway and there's a bit of light and then Robin's skin is as it was. It's still scarred and ugly but there are no fresh wounds and even the little flimsy this-might-be-your-body-after-all tingle of pain is gone.

Robin wants to scream. And bite and tear and bleed. He wants to wake up now and go back to Master Napier. Robin understands Master Napier's rules, and when he doesn't, Master beats him bloody until even someone as stupid as Robin gets it. 

The kind master doesn't make sense at all and it scares Robin. He won't even punish Robin properly to help him understand. His hands are soft when they close around Robin's upper arms to help him stand up. Walking is odd. It's been so long since he's been allowed to do it, but the kind master doesn't let Robin crawl places. He forces him to stand up and follow him, even though it's wrong. Walking is a privilege for good gems like Harley, not for someone as useless and bad as Robin.

There's a flash of light and a cushion appears in front of the kind master's armchair. He makes Robin kneel on it. The cushion is soft, too. It yields under Robin's knees and cradles them. He can't even feel the floor underneath.

The kind master frees Robin's hands from their bindings and massages his shoulders. Robin can't relax under the touch. He keeps expecting a slap or even a knife to come. Nothing happens.

Robin feels lost. The tension in his body is still there, and he keeps expecting pain that he's starting to suspect won't come. Everything is wrong. Everything.

His hands are free now. He could use them to pull his skin and squeeze until it hurts. Even though the mittens are still on, he figured out how to do it. Just catch a piece of flesh between the mittens and twist and squeeze and pull until it starts hurting. The kind master will punish him for sure, because he already told Robin he isn't allowed to do that. Or he might just tie Robin's hands together again, like he did last time Robin forgot and disobeyed.

Robin doesn't want to disobey but it's just... he just needs to make sure that they didn't switch him. What if a good, obedient slave is inside of Robin's body, and Master Napier is hurting him because he doesn't know the slave isn't Robin? 

"Jason, pay attention," the kind master says, and sits down on the armchair in front of Robin.

Robin snaps back into the present, attention on the kind master, eager to obey. Maybe he will be given orders. Orders are good.

The kind master pulls Robin's slave tunic over his head and lets it fall to the floor. Robin stands up straighter, ready to be used. The kind master likes Robin's mouth and Robin's hole. He's said so before. Robin knows how to do this part. Being a fuckhole is easy. He just needs to let the kind master do whatever he wants. Fucking and pain are the only things Robin understands.

"Do you see this?" The kind master points at the new golden brand on Robin's chest. It shimmers in the light. It's the prettiest slave brand Robin has ever seen. Much too pretty for someone like him.

"Jason, do you see it?"

"Yes, Master," Robin says.

The kind master places his hand on top of the brand and it glows. "This means that you're mine. You feel how it responds to my touch? That's because it's mine. My magic in you. The brand is mine just like you are. You're mine when you are good, but sweetheart, even when you're bad, you're still mine. As simple as that. There's nothing you can do that will stop you from being mine. You can lie, you can cry, you can disobey, you can fight, you can bite, you can refuse to obey. It won't change a thing. You're mine now, and I'm not letting you go."

Robin wants to believe him so badly. So badly.

"Give me your hands," the kind master says.

Robin raises his hands and lets them hover in front of him, uncertain. He flinches when the kind master touches them. Flinching is bad. Robin knows it. Master can touch and use Robin however he likes, because Robin is his property. He just said so.

Maybe he'll be punished now? He starts to tremble, unable to help himself.

Master doesn't punish him, though. He just takes off the mittens that stop Robin from scratching himself and massages Robin's fingers and palms softly. Robin's trembling intensifies. He has to fight with himself not to snatch his hands away. It's just a touch. It doesn't even hurt.

The kind master's fingers are long and elegant, his skin soft and perfect. Robin's hands look so ugly compared to his. They are covered in thin white scars. His wrists are worse, a whole mess of ugly marks from the barbed wire Master Napier likes to use to tie Robin down. Robin is just too stupid to stay still like Master Napier wants and the barbed wire always ends up piercing and tearing him.

The pressure around his fingers snaps him away from his memories. The kind master is holding Robin's hands, stopping him from pulling them away. Robin eyes the kind master fearfully. Surely now he'll be punished now? Why can't Robin be a good gem? Why?

"It's fine, Jason," the kind master says, and runs the back of his fingers along Robin's cheeks. 

He pulls up the toga covering his legs and Robin licks his lips in anticipation when he sees the kind master's cock. It's still soft but that doesn't matter. Robin knows how to make it rise, how to give it pleasure. His mouth is the only reason why Master Napier hasn't made him a rag yet. Robin's eyes rover eagerly over the kind master's beautiful legs with their perfect chiseled muscles and all that gorgeous, golden skin. He's one of the most handsome masters Robin has ever serviced. 

"Leave your hands right here." He places Robin's hands, palm down, on top of his thighs. His skin feels warm under Robin's touch, almost as though he's running a fever. "You're not to move them. I'll notice if you do."

Robin nods. 

"Good." 

Robin can't tear his eyes away from the ugly bundle of scars crisscrossing the backs of his hands. He's such an ugly, worthless gem. The kind master deserves a prettier slave.

"What are you thinking about?"

"How to please you, Master." The answer is easy. He learned it while he still lived with the breeders. 

The kind master chuckles. "And that put such a frown on your face?"

Robin curls in on himself. Stupid. "I'm a bad gem, Master. You should send me back."

"Well, you do keep trying to tell me what I should and shouldn't do," the kind master says nonchalantly. "I suppose a well-trained gem wouldn't do that."

"I'm sorry, Master," Robin says in a small voice. 

"I know you are." The kind master snorts. "It's fine, Jason. I already told you that it doesn't matter what you think or what you want. You're my gem. Only I get to choose what I do with you."

Robin relaxes slightly. The kind master is right. Robin's wants and opinions are meaningless. The knowledge soothes him. It's the one thing that hasn't changed. The one constant in Robin's life for as long as he can remember. It's comforting, and he clings to that certainty desperately. Only master's will matters. Even inside his dreams Robin's only purpose is to obey.

Maybe Master Napier will come and get him. Maybe Robin will wake up. But right now he's in the dream, and Robin's only wish should be to obey the kind master. That's easy. It should be easy. It would be easy if Robin weren't such a stupid gem.

"Open your mouth," the kind master orders, and pushes Robin's head down towards his cock.

Robin leans forward and takes the soft head between his lips. He starts to swirl his tongue around it.

"None of that now," the kind master says, tapping his fingers twice against the back of Robin's head.

Robin stops at once and tries to pull back, but the kind master's hand keeps him in place. "Stay still," he orders.

Robin freezes, unsure what to do. His heart beats faster and fear claws at him. He doesn't know what the kind master wants. That's bad. Really bad. The worst pain always comes when Robin fails to understand the rules of the games the masters want to play.

"Calm down, Jason." The kind master caresses the back of Robin's head softly. "Take me in your mouth as deep as you can, but don't move your tongue or swallow."

Oh. The kind master just wants to fuck Robin's throat and pretend Robin is a puppet. Robin has played this game before, but he's not very good at it. He always ends up screaming or struggling no matter how hard he tries to behave like a puppet would. Except the one time when one of Master Napier's friends did something with his magic and trapped Robin inside his own mind. All of Master Napier's friends used him that night and Robin couldn't move or scream. Not even when Master Napier set Robin's right foot on fire to see if it would wake him up.

It didn't.

Robin screamed and screamed and screamed inside his head, but his body remained lifeless and silent. A true puppet.

Robin was so happy when Master got bored with the game and made his friend end the spell. He crawled to Master's feet and kissed them, sobbing his thanks, promising he would be a better gem. Thanking Master for his mercy. Everything hurt, his body, his ass, his foot. Master laughed, shrill and loud, but it was his happy laugh. Robin almost never got Master to laugh like that, only Harley did.

Master ordered Robin to stay still while he burned his other foot. Robin tried to obey, he tried so hard. He failed of course. Master laughed when Robin lost the game and moved his foot away. He made Robin put his foot back over the flame again and again. It hurt more than the first burn did and Robin kept earning himself more time in the flame because he couldn't stay still like before, but it was better. So much better. Everything was better than being trapped in his head, feeling all the pain and fear, unable to even twitch or cry. And Master was happy that night. He was pleased with Robin even though Robin kept failing him. That was good.

"Jason, are you trying to hurt me?"

Robin snaps away from his memory. He isn't with Master Napier anymore. He is still in the dream. A wave of panic washes over him when he notices that he dug his fingers into the skin of the kind master's thighs and tried to scratch it. 

He tries to pull away to crawl to Master's feet and lick them, to beg him for mercy. That helps sometimes, not to avoid punishment, but to make it a bit more bearable. Master's hand keeps him in place, holding Robin on Master's cock with ease. It's like trying to push against a wall. There's no give. Master's hand just stays there and Robin can't move away.

"Calm down, sweetheart," the kind master says. "You didn't actually hurt me. You couldn't even if you tried, remember?"

Oh, right. The dream has its own sets of rules.

"Relax your hands for me, sweetheart," the kind master orders. 

_Sweetheart_. Robin loves that word. No one has ever called him that. Only the kind master. He obeys immediately, easing the grip of his fingers. Placing his palms flat on the kind master's thighs. He swallows around Master's cock and flickers his tongue around it, trying to get it to harden, so that Robin can show how sorry he is.

Master taps the back of Robin's head with his fingers twice. "Jason, I told you not to move your tongue."

Robin freezes. He forgot. He forgot again. They are playing the puppet game. Puppets don't move. They don't scratch their masters or try to lick them. They only exist to be used. Tears well up in his eyes and his chest hurts as he fights the desire to cry. Puppets don't cry. They make no noises.

Stay still, Robin berates himself.

Robin has to remind himself again and again not to shift his hands or move them. Not to dig his fingernails into the skin, because that isn't Robin's skin. It's Master's. 

"That's perfect, sweetheart, just like that," the kind master says, petting Robin's hair. "You're being so good for me. Take me a bit deeper. Think you can do that?"

Robin can. Master cock is still soft. It's easy to take it all the way into his mouth. Even soft, it's long enough that its tip pushes against Robin's uvula and tonsils, almost reaching the back of Robin's throat. It's hard to keep his tongue still, let it lie there like a soft, warm bed for Master's cock to rest on. 

He wants to move it, but Master told him not to. So Robin concentrates on that. Not moving his tongue. Not moving his hands. Breathing in and out through his nose. It's difficult with Master's cock almost choking him. But not quite. There's just enough space between the tip of his cock and the back of Robin's throat that some air can get in. This isn't the choking game. Not yet at least. Games change easily.

The smell of the kind master is intense. It's a musky, heady scent, clean, with a lingering trace of the sandalwood fragrance the rags put in his bathwater. He smells so different from Master Napier. Robin likes that. He breathes in and relaxes slightly.

Master pets Robin's hair. "That's it, sweetheart. My beautiful, perfect gem."

Robin wants to protest. He isn't beautiful. Too many ugly scars cover him. And he certainly isn't perfect. But his mouth is full of Master's cock and he can't protest. Not that he should protest. Masters are always right even when they aren't. It isn't a slave's place to correct them.

Robin breathes in, enjoying the scent of the kind master, the shape of his soft cock in Robin's mouth.

"See, sweetheart? Nothing bad is going to happen," the kind master reassures Robin. "I just want you to stay like this, keeping my cock warm while I work." He pulls his toga down, covering Robin with it and hiding him from view. He pats Robin's head once last time, before he lets go.

Robin hears the ruffle of parchment over him and feels the muscles of Master's thighs shift as he leans back on the chair. Robin has to lean forward slightly to keep Master's cock inside his mouth. His forehead brushes against Master's lower belly and with the toga covering him is easy to pretend he's invisible.

Robin waits. And waits. It's easy at first, but after a while Robin starts to worry again. Will Master hurt Robin? That's usually how the puppet game goes. Robin has to stay still while Master hurts him until Robin fails and moves. Then, Master can punish him.

"Hands, Jason," the kind master says.

Right. Robin eases his grip on Master's thighs, relaxing his fingers. He breathes in through his nose. Spit is starting to gather in his mouth and Robin swallows around Master's cock to stop it from dripping down.

The kind master taps his fingers against the back of Robin's head. "No swallowing."

Stupid gem. Robin is supposed to be a puppet and puppets don't move. He knows that. He's doing it wrong. Master isn't even hurting him and Robin is still doing it all wrong.

"Hands," Master reminds him.

Robin eases his fingers again. Tears of frustration start to fall down his cheeks. He presses his lips tight around Master's cock to stop the drooling. He tenses, waiting for the tap of Master's fingers but this time nothing happens. So, pressing his lips is allowed, just no tongue and no swallowing.

And his hands! He stops himself from clenching his fingers just in time. He breathes in and out, the smell of the kind master surrounding him. He's strangely aware of his hands, the feel of Master's thin hairs under his fingers, the warmth of his skin, the firmness of it. His fingers want to twitch and fidget, but Robin isn't supposed to move. It takes all of his concentration to keep himself still.

Spit continues to gather in his mouth and his lips hurt from pressing down around the base of Master's cock to stop it from running out. It's too much. Robin's mouth can't keep it in, not when Master's soft length is taking so much space, constantly teasing against the back of his throat.

He swallows, unable to help himself and whimpers.

The tap of Master's fingers comes immediately. This time Master doesn't even bother to tell Robin what he did wrong. It's obvious. The tears continue to run, and Robin knows he's making some kind of hitching sound.

He expects Master to slap him, or at least do the finger tapping to remind Robin to stay still. Instead, Master puts a hand on the back of Robin's head and pets it through the tunic. "Hush, you are doing fine, Jason. I just want you to try your best. Are you trying your best?"

Robin nods as best he can and makes a humming sound of agreement. Master's cock twitches inside his mouth.

Master laughs. "That was my mistake. I did ask you a question, didn't I? Next time, you tap one finger against my leg for yes and two for no. I don't want your mouth distracting me from work. Is that clear?"

Robin almost nods again and then catches himself in time. The question is a trap. Questions always are. His heart pounds loudly as he taps one finger against Master's leg gently. Only once. He tenses, waiting for the punishment.

"My perfect, clever gem," Master says instead. "You're such a fast learner." 

Robin got it right? Something warm and soft unfurls inside his chest. He never gets questions right, but he did it this time. He did it! If he could get another thing right. Just one other. Robin wants to please the kind master so badly.

Stay still. That's all he has to do. Stay still and be a puppet. Robin tries. He tries really hard. He fights the desire to fidget. The position is comfortable, and his knees don't hurt, but Robin isn't used to staying still for so long. Master Napier would have hurt him by now, and then Robin would have moved anyway.

He starts a little chant in his head to help him obey.

 _Hands_. Robin checks his fingers. Don't press them into Master's thighs. Don't brush them over that perfect, unblemished skin. Don't shift them.

 _Mouth_. Let his tongue lay there, a soft warm mattress for Master to rest on. Don't swallow. Don't swallow. Don't swallow. That's the hardest part. The more he thinks about it, the harder it is to resist the instinct to do it.

Master's cock brushes against the back of Robin's throat, tickling him. Drool keeps gathering in his mouth, more and more with every breath. Robin presses his lips tighter against the base of Master's cock trying not to slobber all over his lap like an ill-trained dog. Don't swallow.

He's so focused on his mouth, on obeying, on the smell of Master and the taste of him that he almost forgets his hands again. But the chant helps. _Hands_. He remembers just in time to stop his fingers from digging in, and worst yet, trying to scratch. That's not Robin's ugly skin; it's Master's. Robin should be grateful he's allowed to touch it at all. _Mouth!_ He almost slips and swallows. Droplets of drool escape his lips and run down Master's groin.

He makes a frustrated sound and presses his lips tighter. Master's hand comes down again and Robin flinches. Tears of frustration well up in his eyes. He's trying so hard. He's trying. But he flinched and he made a noise. Puppets don't do that.

"Hush, sweetheart." It's not the dreaded finger tapping, but a caress. Warm and smooth and perfect.

Does that mean that making noises is allowed? The tapping is for misbehavior, Robin thinks. A good beating with the cane would be better, but the kind master doesn't even own a cane. Master Napier had a whole collection of them. He made Robin clean them and if Robin was really good he sometimes let Robin pick one for Master to use. Robin always made sure to choose the one that would hurt the most. That pleased Master.

The tapping comes, and it startles Robin. What did he do wrong? Oh, he dug his fingers into Master's thighs. He pulls his hands away. Another tapping. That was wrong, too. Of course it was. He sobs and chokes and then swallows before he can stop himself. Another tapping of fingers. Robin sucks on Master's cock, trying to show how sorry he is. Maybe that will help?

"Jason, stop that!" Master says, and the tapping comes again.

He's doing it wrong. He's failing. He's failing. The kind master will sell him now. Robin sobs, unable to help himself.

"Come on, sweetheart, hush. I'm not angry. Calm down." The kind master pets Robin's head soothingly. "Don't cry."

The kind master doesn't like it when Robin cries. Robin tries to stop it but he can't. It's hard. Crying and begging is supposed to please Master. It did before. Master Napier likes it when Robin is miserable and in pain. Being stubborn only makes everything worse. Crying is good.

Except now it isn't good any more. And there's no point in begging for mercy because the kind master gives it all the time anyway, even when Robin wouldn't think to ask for it. It's like he's made of nothing but mercy.

"I know it's hard, sweetheart, but you're doing well."

It's not hard. _It's not._ The kind master isn't even beating Robin. Master Napier is right. Robin is just a bad gem. It has nothing to do with Master Napier or Master Bruce. It's all Robin. He's the failure.

"All right, all right." The kind master pulls up the toga. He pushes Robin's mouth away from his cock.

Master's cock is soft still, gleaming with Robin's drool. Robin wants to go back to it, to be allowed to touch it again, but he failed.

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry," he sobs. He tries to drop to the floor and lick Master's feet to show how sorry he truly is, but Master holds him by his hair and there's no give to his grip.

"It's all right. sweetheart. I just need you to calm down a bit before we try again, Jason, or you're going to choke."

Will Master allow Robin to try again? "Please," Robin begs. "I'll do better. Please, let me please you, Master. Let me try again."

"You already please me, sweetheart," the kind master lies. It's a kind lie, like the master. Robin likes it. He likes everything about the kind master. His punishments that aren't punishments, his softness, his pet names, his patience. Even his lies. Especially his lies. How he says that Robin is beautiful and perfect and _good_. 

"Suck a bit of my fingers." He lets go of Robin's hair and presses the tip of his fingers into Robin's mouth. "That will soothe you."

Robin latches onto the fingers, licking and sucking them. He teases them with his tongue and bobbles his head up and down their length as if they were Master's cock, trying to show his eagerness. And Robin _is_ eager. He worships the kind master's fingers with everything he's learned at the breeders and in the years under Master Napier's ownership servicing him and his countless guests.

The kind master makes a low, pleased sound and his cock starts to harden. "Enough," he says, voice rougher than before, and pulls his fingers away from Robin's mouth. "You have a very talented mouth. I should have you give Slade lessons."

"As you will it, Master," Robin says dutifully. It doesn't matter that Robin doesn't like the mean, older gem. A slave's only desire is to please its master.

Apollo laughs, and Robin cringes. He expects a blow or a kick. It usually follows laughter. But the kind master just ruffles Robin's hair fondly. "Don't like Slade much, do you? All right, we'll skip those lessons for now. Let's try again," he says. "Put your hands on my legs as before."

Robin obeys quickly. Don't fail this time. Don't fail. Don't fail!

"Lean forward. Take me in your mouth." The kind master guides Robin's head down onto his cock. It's not as soft as before and it's more difficult to get it all the way inside, but Robin is skilled enough to manage it without choking.

"No licking, Jason, and no sucking," the kind master reminds him of the rules, and Robin freezes. Right. The puppet game. This is Robin's second chance to prove himself.

He closes his eyes and pushes away the disappointment. He wanted to suck Master's cock and give him pleasure. But that's not what Master wants.

Be a puppet. Just be a puppet. _A good puppet_.

Robin remembers his chant from before. It helped until he forgot it. He's not going to forget it again. He's not.

Hands. Mouth. Hands. Mouth. 

Don't suck. Don't lick. Don't move. Don't scratch. Breathe. Master's smell. Hands. Mouth. Hands. Mouth. Be a puppet. Just be a puppet.

Drool starts gathering again and Robin can't stop it from escaping him, not unless he swallows. Don't swallow. Don't lick. Surely Master has noticed Robin's slobber? Robin tenses, expecting some kind of rebuke. Even something as small as the finger tapping. He waits and waits, but nothing happens.

He almost forgets his chant. _Hands_. He relaxes his fingers.

"That's it, sweetheart. You're doing great," Master says and pets Robin's head through the cloth of his toga. Robin didn't even notice when he pulled it down again.

He opens his eyes. When did Robin close them? His lashes brush against the skin of Master's lower belly when he blinks. Robin closes them once more. It's easier to concentrate on the chant with his eyes shut.

After a while, it stops being difficult. He stops thinking or worrying. All he is is the chant in his head. Drool falls from his lips but it seems unimportant. Master doesn't mind and Robin doesn't either.

He keeps his eyes closed. He hears the ruffling of parchment as Master works. Sometimes Master shifts to get something and Robin moves with him, making sure that Master's cock is safe inside Robin's mouth, where it belongs.

The chant echoes through his head, but even that starts to fade as he settles into his purpose. To be Master's puppet. He has all he needs. The taste of Master's cock in his mouth. The smell of Master's arousal in his nose. The feel of Master's skin beneath his fingertips.

The slave's brand in Robin's chest warms and tingles, sending pleasure through his body. Usually, it would scare Robin. Pleasure is bad. Pleasure means punishment. But this time it seems unimportant. Thinking takes too much effort. Remembering even more.

Robin's only thoughts are the chant, still echoing in the back of his head, and the pleasure of being Master's, of obeying his will. His worries melt. Even the constant fear of being sold, of waking up, of Master Napier coming to get him. None of it is important.

Vaguely, he wonders if this is what a puppet truly feels like. This emptiness of being. This calm where nothing and no one can touch him. It's nothing like the spell Master Napier's friend used. Robin couldn't move under the spell but he still could feel. He can feel now, too, he supposes, it just doesn't matter.

Time passes, but that, too, is irrelevant. He's dimly aware of rags coming in and out, bringing food for Master. Slade comes in at one point. He even makes some jab about Robin. Robin hears it, but the words are meaningless and faraway. It's as though he's underwater, except he isn't drowning or terrified like he always is when Master Napier plays the water game.

If slaves were allowed to wish for things, Robin would wish to stay like this forever. To be nothing but the kind master's puppet for as long as the kind master will have him.

After a while, he becomes aware of the kind master's fingers petting his cheek. Robin blinks owlishly. His lashes brush against the kind master's belly as he looks up.

"Ah, there you are," the kind master says, and smiles down at him. The slave brand pulses with pleasure.

Pleasure is bad. If Robing gets hard Master will—

"Hush, sweetheart. Don't fight it."

Oh, this is still the dream. The kind master wants him to feel pleasure even though Robin is terrified of it. But Robin is just a puppet. Puppets don't feel fear. He's so tired of being scared all the time. He lets that drowsy lethargy settle in his bones and when the magic of the brand starts to tingle, traveling directly to his cock and nipples he lets it.

"Just like that. You're doing so well, Jason." The kind master withdraws his cock slightly and then pushes it gently in. He's still only half hard, but harder than he was when the puppet game began.

Robin stays there and lets himself be used. His jaw is numb from the constant stretch and his tongue feels swollen and useless, like a big lump of flesh with no purpose. Robin doesn't know if he'd remember how to lick and suck. His mouth doesn't even feel like his own. Nor does his body. He's so removed from it all. Even the pleasure coursing through him, guided by the kind master's magic, doesn't feel like it's happening to him.

Master's cock hardens further and his thrusts grow faster and deeper. Drool runs steadily down Robin's jaw and chin, and wet, messy noises fill the room. Master's fingers clutch Robin's hair as he forces his way down Robin's throat.

Fresh, involuntary tears well up in Robin's eyes as he tries to suck in air through his nose and can't. Usually, he'd try to lick and swallow to make whoever is using his mouth come faster, to earn the right to breathe again. This time, he just lets it happen. Master told him to be his puppet and he doesn't want to disappoint him.

Black spots dance in front of his eyes and Robin closes them, relaxing further into the kind master's grip. If the kind master wants Robin to die choking on his cock, then Robin will happily die for him. The magic grows warmer, spreading through him, fueled by Robin's acceptance of his place.

' _I'm my master's gem. I exist to answer his desire,_ ' he chants to himself, and there's peace in that. It'd be nice to die like this, pleasing the kind master.

Master pulls out at the last moment and comes all over Robin's face. Robin gasps for breath and keens.

"Suck," Master orders. He wipes globs of come from Robin's face and pushes them into Robin's mouth with his fingers.

It takes Robin a moment to remember how to close his mouth enough to suck. The muscles of his jaw refuse to respond at first.

"That's it," Master encourages him, when Robin finally flicks his tongue around his fingers. "You did so well, sweetheart. You were made for this, Jason."

Robin's licks become firmer while he basks in Master's approval. Robin played the game right. He doesn't remember when was the last time that happened. Never with Master Napier. Maybe with Master Bruce? But Master Bruce sold Robin, so Robin probably didn't manage to do things right back then either.

It's the kind master. He's so easy to please that even someone as useless and stupid as Robin can manage to please him. It has to be a dream. Nothing this good can be real. But what does it matter if it's a dream or not? Pain will be there when he wakes up. Right now, Robin can have this moment. This little moment to dream of being Jason.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! ❤️


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